When All Seems Lost
by HappyTerrier
Summary: "Yeah. I already heard." She rolled her eyes. "You're that Slytherin that should be in Gryffindor but isn't because the Sorting Hat thought you needed to grow up. But who are you really?" Wow, that sounded ridiculous when she said it. Ron snapped, "None of your business." He was just a lousy best friend who needed to escape the 1970s.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter J.K. Rowling does. If I did Ron would have his own story.**

Chapter 1:

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were slowly grating on Ron Weasely's nerves. He thought they would be the perfect friends to replace his ex-friend Harry Potter. Three weeks ago, Harry had lied to his face about entering the Twiwizard Tournament. A tournament Ron would love to compete in. But no, Harry had to be the special one yet again.

And Hermione, his other best friend, had to stand by the prat's side.

Meanwhile, Ron faced Dean and Seamus who had to have inside jokes and spend all their time laughing around. There was only so much laughing Ron could do about girls and their lady bits. He wanted to watch Harry and Hermione laugh to his more exciting silly jokes. His two best friend's laughter was Ron medicine. Until the two decided to leave him out while they practiced spells in empty classrooms. Hermione never even thanked him for standing up for her the other day.

Yes, Ron was the one who officially broke the friendship. But Ron refused to apologize for being angry for a bloody good reason.

So Ron was left with loneliness. Left alone during stupid school and dull classes where he fought to stay awake. And then he would have to hear all about Hermione's brilliance by teachers without Harry to talk to. True he barely tried, but why should he when he found it so meaningless. When would he need to ramble off facts about magic? He understood the point of practicing spells, but he hated trying to remember all their particular movements. And he still croaked like a frog under the Imperius Curse to Seamus's amusement.

"So I talked to Pavarti and she wants to join you in a frog duet tomorrow Ron." Seamus grinned and slapped Dean's hand.

"Its not my fault Moody keeps choosing me." Ron hated the strange glint of pleasure Professor Moody sometimes revealed when he picked Ron in class. Mad-Eye Moody was wicked, but that look just got Ron inwardly trembling. "Tell her no."

"Just joking," Seamus said. "Really all we did was, you know. I could rub…"

"We don't need to hear all about that," Dean interrupted. "I had enough for one day. How about some Exploding Snap?"

They played for a while and then Dean and Seamus started fighting over some card move.

Ron decided to try to go to sleep. He lied down on his bed and stared at the black ceiling. Left to his thoughts, Ron's gloomy mood returned. He wanted to be Champion. He wanted to be special. But he was stuck with being ordinary, and plain, and unimportant. Worse, there was the small, hidden, and creepy part of his brain that told him that Harry did not put his name at all. Ron hated that idea. It was ludicrous. Harry shared his meddlesome scheme the night before the reveal. Harry sneaked out with his invisibility cloak to put his name in the goblet. _Right? Right._

Soon, Ron's brain turned off and he went to sleep.

Ron woke up with a dry throat. He rushed to the bathroom and quickly gulped some water from the sink. Once he returned to the dormitory, Ron gazed over at Harry's bed and found him not there. There were only sheets, a pillow and a wool sock. So, Harry was not in the dorm. He must be in common room or outside the tower being the Oh So Great Chosen One.

Ron's stomach growled. He wished he knew where the kitchens were. Know what, he should ask Fred and George. They only lived two flights of stairs below. Ron started to walk down the stairs when he heard a raspy voice. The last time he heard that voice was in the Shrieking Shack. Must be Sirius. Merlin, Harry, Sirius. His friend needed to become way more careful. Ron smiled, his last thought reminded him of Hermione. Ron ran down the stairs to see Sirius. He loved the funny bloke, even though he was not keen to talk to Harry. Well, fast walked since his legs were too tired from sleeping earlier.

Once he made it to the common room, Sirius was gone. Soon a conversation broke out between Harry and Ron where Ron demanded the truth from Harry. To which Harry refused to answer. Ron anger emerged again. After all these years, one little strife, and Harry refused to tell Ron everything. Ron hated this knowing that Harry could omit Ron out of his life altogether. Well, its all his own fault, Ron knew. Ron shouted at Harry. After a few more bitter words, Harry threw a ruddy object at Ron's face. It hurt worse than when his head banged against a broomstick.

And then Ron noticed something that caused his heart to thump. His chessboard was on some common room chair. Who dared to place it there? He grabbed his chessboard. When Ron moved pass the fireplace, he lost his footing and tripped. Simultaneously, his hands threw the board leftward into the air. Chess pieces scattered throughout the ground. Some pieces fell into the fireplace and increased the tepid fire _. No. His board._ His board fell into the fire. Much of the ink on the board disintegrated till the chessboard pattern appeared faint. Worse, the fire was no longer tepid. The fire now stretched and roared like a hippogriff.

Soon, smoke covered Ron all over. Ron tried to remember the water-making spell. For several minutes the spell stayed a lost leaf in his memory. Ron stood coughing as his throat tightened. His eyes lost focus and saw shapes. He watched a round oval swish around and then Ron remembered some sounds of the word for the water-making spell. . "Auges," Ron grasped. His throat itched as more smoke fell inside. "Augmens." Ron could not remember the spell.

No. He was going to die. He would never hang about with Harry again. Dead long before he could succeed in any accomplishments of his own. The truth appeared clear before him; Harry was dared to put his name in the goblet. He needed to apologize.

Ron ran out of the fire. He needed Professor McGonagall now. The fire needed someone to put it down before every Gryffindor perished. Coughing, sneezing, and achooing, Ron sped out of the gray atmosphere that surrounded him. His eyes grazed into the smoke and for a while Ron was blind. Still, Ron dashed, blind, alone, scared and unsure. Ron considered his state worse than the swampy pits of the Slytherin dungeons.

Finally, Ron emerged free from the smoke and into the beautiful, clear hallways of Hogwarts. Ron rushed to the bathroom. Boy he is scorched. Blisters covered his face. His nose sizzled. Red cuts oozed blood. He turned the knob on the sink and water poured out. Ron awkwardly placed his face below the water, hoping the liquid would make it less itchy.

"Ahhhhh," screamed a girl. "What are you doing in the girls bathroom?"

Ron scrambled out of the bathroom. Great. He just had to enter a girl's bathroom and face a girl just like Myrtle the Moaning Machine.

"So, what were you doing in there?" The same girl appeared beside him. Her curly blond hair frizzed all over the place

"Checking myself," Ron replied. "Aren't I a picture?"

The girl nodded, looking concerned. "You should see Madam Pompfrey."

That would be nice. But his friends and brothers and sister may die soon. He could not bear the thought of all his friends dead within the bristling Gryffindor home. "Maybe later. Get McGonagall," Ron breathed, an itch had entered his throat again. "Fire in the Gryffindor common room."

"Wow." The girl was too caught up in the excitement. He would be too if he didn't know how dangerous the fire was.

"Shoo, and get help," yelled Ron as he scurried back to Gryffindor Tower. The annoying girl followed behind him, right at his heels. "I told you to get help, you wanker."

"And let you burn yourself some more. I don't think so," the girl snapped.

They barbed back and forth in the direction to the tower. Finally, they reached the hall outside Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady looked at Ron and the girl curiously and asked, "Why are you here Hufflepuff?"

"According to this idiot there's a fire in the Gryffindor Common Room," the girl explained.

"Well there is," Ron mumbled. "We need to get everyone out."

The Fat Lady raised her eyebrows. "But all the students are at dinner."

"Just let me in." Ron kicked the wall. Why did the world hate him? "I need to get in."

"What's the password?"

"I don't know." For some reason Ron couldn't remember the word even though he said it just hours ago.

"Then your not allowed in."

"Let me in, who cares about the ruddy password."

A new voice broke in on the stalemate. "What is going on here?"

Ron turned to find Professor McGonagall. For some reason her face lacked as many wrinkles as he remembered. "There's a fire in the common room and the Fat Lady's getting all cranky over the password."

"So that's what happened to your face." The Fat Lady giggled.

The stern professor nodded and asked, "Paige, get the Headmaster and have him come to my office immediately. I'll handle the fire."

Paige left.

Professor McGonagall continued, "And you, young man, I'm sorry but I can't think of your name at the moment, your face is too disfigured, go to Madam Pomfrey. She will help you."

"You don't recognize me?" Ron asked, amazed. After all the times they interacted. "But I'm Harry Potter's best friend. Ron Weasely. You taught me the last four years. You love to remind me to pay attention like everyday. My burned face can't make you forget that."

Professor McGonagall stared him down. Her eyes stretched wide and very irritated. She stayed quiet for a moment and then demanded, "Stay here. I'll be back shortly. Watch him Elizabeth."

"All right, Minerva." The Fat Lady whipped a fake tear from her eye.

At the moment the Fat Lady opened the door for Professor McGonagall, Ron ran into the common room. He heard the professor muttering angry insults behind him. But that did not matter to him. The sight of the common room, how could it be? How could there be no sign of the fire?

The carpet was matted with dirt, but without any scorched marks. The fireplace remained contained with gentle flames. A few scratch marks sketched letters and hearts on the walls. The windows were almost spotless, grazed by only a few bits of mildew. The windows revealed the peaceful sight of a sun setting behind the Quidditch Pitch.

The next few seconds dragged forever for Ron. His face hurt. His arms were tense with spasms. He was too knackered for this. How did time go by so fast? One moment he fought with Harry in the middle of the night and now a day was ending. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

He felt a hand rub tightly against his shoulder, "I better take you to the Headmaster, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall told him.

"Wait you think I'm Harry?"

The stern professor shook her head. "I figured out your lie. You're not as clever as you think. You are a harry boy, I do agree. But you should know that Polyjuice Potion is illegal for underage wizards."

"I'm not under that Potion. Dang it." Ron's toe hit a couch and it hurt something awful. "I'm Ron. I already told you."

"Well, whoever you are, you need to be punished. Really, spreading a rumor about a fire around, I could torch your ears."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe. J.K. Rowling created and owns the world.**

Chapter 2:

"I know who you are, my dear boy."

Ron guessed he should be happy. For the first time in the only Merlin knows how long hours, a person had actually acknowledged him with an "I know you." instead of a "Who the-bloody hell are you?" And the man was finally done with talking about whatever the hell he had talked about before this moment.

Yet he couldn't. Not after that strange hallucination of the fire still bugging his mind. Not while he still was trying to convince himself that the hallucination was actually a hallucination. He could still a bit peckish where the burn-marks were before the young woman from the Hospital Wing fixed him up. And the feeling reminded him that he was burned and that since he was burned something must have gotten him during the hallucination. Maybe the badge had a dark curse Harry had found to hurt him. Maybe.

He wanted to confront Harry again. He wanted to ask his suppose best friend if he hated him that much to bring about the worst night of his life. A night he spent waiting forever in the Headmaster's office. All night Professor McGonagall breathed over his neck while they sat together on a prickly divan. And for what? To meet this creepy, oldish man with fading auburn hair. The man bothered Ron with all of his "dear boy" rubbish and "how fascinating" murmuring.

"You are Ron Weasley. The youngest son of Arthur Weasley and his fiancé, Molly. Am I correct."

Ron bet that if this man were talking to Harry, the man would go on about all of Harry's great accomplishments, instead of this rubbish about his relations, and would have been more careful to make sure he had the right wording. Fiancé, please. That man was a hack. "No. I'm their youngest daughter. Of course I am Ron, you idiot."

"This may come as a shock." The man scratched his mustache and looked at Ron with a curious smile. "But Professor McGonagall and I have never met you before last night in our lives."

"That's bloody barmy. That is. McGonagall has taught me for three years now, I tell you."

The man simply smiled, relaxing against a high-back chair. His pale blue eyes gazed straight into Ron. For several seconds the man's pale blue eyes gazed straight into Ron's. Just like they had when the man first arrived. "I believe that is true too."

"Flobber-whistles, are you trying to drive me bonkers?" Ron furiously kicked a small oval table nearby. "First, you mutter on and on about how the head of my bloody House doesn't know me and now you blabber that she does. Make up your mind already."

The man nods, nonplussed by Ron's actions. "I am deeply sorry. I am making this explanation more complicated they it needs be. I simply want to make sure you understand that a strange event has occurred and I am hopeless at finding the words to make this event make any sense."

"And now you're going to prattle on about this and that. What's the point of me even listening?" Ron jumped from the divan, his knee bumping sharply against Professor McGonagall's leg. He needed to get out of this room and away from this madman before he bored him to death.

"Please, wait. You're a student at Hogwarts and I'm a Professor," the man demanded.

Ron scoffed. "And I haven't been at Hogwart's the past four years. Let me tell you, I know all the teachers at this school and you're far from one of them." That was far from true, but how could this wanker know.

"Give me some time to clear the air. I have some very big news for you that I rather give clearly. If you just be patient…"

"Haven't got all day. Say it already." If the man didn't say anything in ten seconds Ron would …

"My name is Albus Dumbledore."

Ron started laughing uncontrollably. For once not caring if he sounded like a lunatic. It was just too hilarious. "You're having me on! Fred? George? Hermione? Is this some revenge for me having a fight with Harry?"

Whoever was playing him just held his gaze and laughed merrily. "I must admit I find it terrible the fight I seen played in front of my very eyes, but I am not 'having you on' as you say."

"Oh, don't tell me? Colin, you rotten bugger." Trust the third year to want to do something for Harry. That stupid suck-up, who had always strived to rave over Harry, had, along with his younger brother Dennis, annoyed Ron after they learned about his fight with Harry.

"Calm down, Mr. Weasley. I know you want to have your confusion settled with answers that make some deal of sense. Even though I am sure you understand that it is near impossible for a student to sneak into the Headmaster's office." The man winked at the person playing McGonagall.

"Yeah. right. All you had to do was find the password and get in. Simple as that."

"You obviously never needed to sneak into the office uninvited, I presume." The Dumbledore-pretender let out a light laugh.

"No, but I know plenty who have, I tell you."

"And I am certain you never accompanied these storytellers to confirm their validity. A great story has much value, yet its important to acknowledge that without solid proof, one must be careful on what they deem the truth within such fantastical tales."

"And there you are talking more rubbish, trying to mimic the great man himself, I see." Ron was getting tired of this pretender's attempt of Dumbledore-like philosophical talk.

The strange man grinned widely, confirming Ron's suspicions that the man was bat-shit crazy. "It pleases me to hear that the next generation still appreciate my work."

That was it. He was done being played. "I'm done with this rubbish. You can never prove you're him."

"He already has," The person playing Professor McGonagall told him roughly, her eyes flaring. "He's the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore. And he has not the time for you to waste it with hapless accusations."

"He can't be. Oh, wait is that a long beard I see," Ron responds sarcastically and he reached for an imaginary beard off the beardless man's face. "Dumbledore has a long beard and grey hair. You look nothing like him. You can sound like him all you want but you'll never _be_ him."

"My appearance may be different from my future self in the year 1994. Yet in the present year of 1975 I appear as you see it. Short beard and all."

"1975," Ron said loudly. "1975. Got so tired defending your Dumbledore-hood, you decided to pretend that we're back in the stinking '70s. Next you're going to say You-Know-Who runs the school."

"You-Know-Who?" The Professor McGonagall pretender slid in front of Ron. "If your going to name a person in an imaginary world, I would imagine you would create a name for each character, or are you story-telling skills that dull."

"And now you're getting off your trolley, whoever you two are. Like you don't know how we all refer the worst dark lord in the world."

"I see." The man fiddled with some papers on the desk before him. He turned to the Professor McGonagall look-a-like. "Can I trust you to deal with any problems that arise today?"

"Of course, Headmaster."

"There you go again," Ron muttered. "Trying to fool me."

"Not at all, my dear boy. I simply hope to make preparations before we go. The school doesn't run itself, you see." He nodded to his companion and then focused on writing a short letter. The man handed the letter to a phoenix that appeared out of nowhere. Ron recognized it from the chamber. _Could he be wrong? Was the man really Dumbledore?_ "I simply understand that mere words cannot convince a stubborn mine. I know that now. Could you, at least, humor me with short trip? If you don't believe you are in the past by the end of it, I am fine with allowing you to leave our sight."

No. He couldn't be. Dumbledore would never force anyone anywhere. He must be powerful enough to trick a phoenix. The man was probably a Slytherin, wanting to fool him for some unconceivable reason.

Despite how uneasy he felt, Ron responded, "Fine."

Maybe he could escape when the man wasn't looking. It would be easier to escape this charade with only the man nearby.

RWMMRWMM

In the distance, the Burrow appeared much like Ron remembered from a few months prior. The same slanted roof, cluttered with its embarrassing paint job and its dismally small windows. The same towering chimneys that poofed up a horrendous cloud of coal black smoke. The same large stack of several shacks that he was forced to call home.

Dragged by the elbow, Ron passed the small barn that usually held his family's Quidditch equipment during the summer. It looked more worn then Ron remembered. That surprised Ron. His mother was usually more particular at cleaning everything while he and his siblings were away at school. Dirt dripped from ever inch of the wooden roof's edges. The door hanged open and Ron could hear a few people talking within.

"It seems Gail and Bilius are enjoying a moment there." The man beside him said wistfully. Ron jumped up in surprise, almost tripping on the grass. The man hadn't said a word since they left the Headmaster's office. "We can speak to them later. When they are rather less occupied."

"I've got no interest in meeting the man you hired to play my dead Uncle?" Ron glared at him. He turned to go when he felt a hand clamped on his shoulder.

"I have chosen to be lenient with you so far, Mr. Weasley. But I will no longer pretend like you have no choice but to follow me. You will stay with me, meet your family and choose to accept the truth. My time is limited and I will not spend any more of it hearing you deny my every word. I do not wish to leave you to the streets to discover the terrifying truth on your own. So you will stay quiet and meet the people who are now living in your house."

He felt jittery as the man roughly dragged him closer to the Burrow. He was in deep shit, he could now tell, stuck with a mysterious man who refused to let him go.

"Whata goin' on 'ere." Someone hollered behind them. It was a slouching young man who was struggling to exit Ron's family's barn. He kept bumping his forehead against the doorframe. Someone, who was coughing up a fit, pushed him forward.

Ron gasped at the man before him. The perky man wiggled on the ground and attempted to stand. And, all the while, Ron could see a memory of this man before him. In the memory, the man threw a goblet in the air, laughing childishly at Fred and George's attempt to stick ribbons in his hair. Fred almost pushed a blue and gray ribbon into the man's nose when … Ron couldn't remember what happened next.

Like the McGonagall imposter, this man appeared like a younger version of a person Ron knew. But unlike the McGonagall imposter, Ron was less sure of this man being an imposter of his Uncle Bilius. He just seemed so familiar. Ron also couldn't imagine anyone acting similar to Uncle Bilius, like this man had in just one movement.

Was Uncle Bilius actually alive? Did the man pull a two-year prank on the Weasley family? That would be like Uncle Bilius.

"Dey want to filch our grass, I bet." A woman's voice stated from within the barn, giggling rampantly. "Maybe e'en our wood-day forks."

"I 'no 'oo," The man who was possibly Uncle Bilius exclaimed, mouth wide open in a dramatic fashion. "Ye famous man from de paper. What we deserve- it's a honor si-ir."

"Blasted sphinx, Albus Dumbledore. Pleasure." A blond-haired woman came up to the auburn-haired man beside Ron and held out her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

The elderly man shook her hand, clasping gently. "It's a pleasure to meet you too Miss. Humphry."

"You know my name!" The woman smiled so wide Ron could see her dirt-brown teeth.

"I find it better to be aware of anyone I might meet, especially for an important matter I am about to discuss with your boyfriend's mother.

Ron was tired of being ignored. It was time to escape while the man did useless pleasantries with his latest actor in the strangest prank. Why someone wanted to act like a dead drunk man, he didn't care. Ron turned and began to run past bushes that stood by the barn. When he was about to move left around a bush, he felt his body turn paralyzed.

"My companion is in a bit of dilemma at the moment." Ron could hear his kidnapper saying. "I was hoping for you mother and youngest brother's help in my efforts to gain his trust."

"Intriguing!" The woman hollered. "What's his story? Was he raised by the Dark Lord himself? Or was it a convent that gabs about the devil in us witches and wizards."

"Albus Dumbledore," A new voice shouted from far off. "What have you done, Albus. Are you truly going to freeze him just because he wouldn't believe you?"

"No. No. Cedrella." Ron's captor exclaimed. "He tried to run away. I needed him to stay put so I could get him to come to the house."

"Dear Albus, you really shouldn't have. I got your message just fine and I could've came by instead of you dragging yourself all the way here." She humphed and soon Ron could see the newcomer plainly.

Though her hair was dark grey, Ron was sure she was a Weasley. Possibly she was one of his father's cousins visiting for the weekend. Her hair hanged out in a half-formed bun, much like his Aunt Muriel. Her flickering blue eyes, so like his father's, rose in delight. She walked with the typical Weasley shuffle. Her feet scratched harshly on the ground and Ron could almost believe he was in the middle of a family gathering where that grating noise snapped everywhere. As soon as the woman reached Ron, she flickered her wand and Ron could feel his joints become free again.

"Finally," Ron gasped. "Thought I would have to stink like a Blasted Ended Skewrt for the rest of my life."

The woman laughed and Ron noticed that she sounded like his father did after hearing one of the twin's jokes. "Oh dear. What are those?" She looked at the blond woman and gasped. "Wait, don't tell me. I'm sure I'll find out soon enough." She whispered softly in the blond woman's ear.

Nodding wildly, the blond woman said to all of them, "I best be off. See you tonight Billy." She ruffled the man who was possibly Uncle Bilius's cheeks.

As soon as she apparated away, the grey-haired woman babbled excitedly, "Just like my dear Arthur you are. Woah! Same eyes, same hair, and you almost as tall. If your eyebrows were white, you could be an exact replica. By jolly."

"You know dad?" Ron smiled at her. He felt like he could trust her. Barely anyone who wasn't a Weasley remembered the fact that his father lacked colored eyebrows. And she seemed to dislike the elderly man as mush as Ron. He was sure she would end this ridiculously long prank. "I think I remember him mentioning a Cedrella sometime or another."

He definitely heard the name before. Maybe when Dad was talking about the wife of Uncle Dick. No. The name was definitely of someone older - someone from his grandparent's generation.

"The resemblance is clear." The Dumbledore-imposter meanwhile agreed as if Ron never spoke.

"Oh, quiet you." The woman glared at the elderly man. "You done enough damage for one day. Give me a day with him. Trust me I can do far better than you ever could.

The man frowned and said sadly, "I think you're right."

When the man apparated away, Ron felt at ease for the first time since the fire occurred.

 **Author's Note:**

 **I wanted to update this story before I returned to school. Its a bit shorter than I planned, but I think it shows how I want Ron to react to the idea of time travel - stubborn disbelief.**

 **Thank you Guests who reviewed the first day this story came out and Faint Blue for your wonderful comment.**

 **I hope this chapter is enjoyable.**

 **HappyTerrier**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. If I wrote Harry Potter, Ron would have grown up more while staying his hilarious self.**

Chapter 3:

"Words can't describe how much I hate that man." Cedrella told Ron right after the Dumbledore imposter apparated away.

"Nutter. Plain nutter. Acting like I don't belong in Hogwarts. Playing with my head with his mumbo jumbo." Ron squeezed his hands against his neck and his shoulder twitched at the indignity of that man.

"For some reason my husband Septimus and Billy here adore him." Cedrella winked at the man who acted like Uncle Bilius.

The man who was possibly Uncle… Wait, why can't he just call the man Billy? _Yes._ Ron decided. He would call the man Billy to limit the confusion steaming like dragon-fire in his mind. So the Billy guy mumbled, "He bloody 'efeated bad lord,"

"Dark Lord, sweatie-pie." Cedrella sighed and turned to Ron. "Is it all right, dear, if you explore your house for a bit? I need to talk to Billy about a few things before I explain this all."

"Sounds good." Ron was eager to lie on his bed for a while and to listen to the familiar groans of his family's ghoul.

As he entered the Burrow, Ron looked around the front entrance. For some reason, a welcoming mat hanged from the ceiling instead of on the floor. And strangely enough the floor didn't have the little burn mark from the accident the twins had back when they tried to make a fire out of his poor teddy bear and a Lumos charm.

Something strange was going on. He shouldn't have trusted that women and enter this place like it was nothing. Like players in an obvious hoax did not surround him. Merlin dammit. This could be a trap and Ron did exactly what all of them told him to do. Ron ran out of the house and heard Cedrella and Billy talking. Maybe eavesdropping would give him something to hold on these maniac kidnappers.

"So ye sayin' he don't belong 'ere." Billy was grumbling. "He from some ot'er time?"

"Your nephew from the future." Cedrella nodded vigorously.

"Fuck up! But 'e do hav' Arty's cornflowers."

"Yes. He does have Arthur's eyes. But you do see we're in a bit of a dilemma. Arty's getting married soon and we can't have…"

"You bloody kidding me. You both believe the boloney that I'm in the past?" Ron snapped. They both shot up at his words. "How's that even possible."

Billy gazed at Ron with his drunken face contorted. He looked like a loony that wanted to touch Ron's willie.

"I don't know." The woman stepped forward and leaned in closely until her face Ron's shoulder. "I don't know. And I don't know how I can prove it to you. I never imagined that I would have to face the Weasley stubbornness head-on. I was hoping you would look around the house and see it. See how things are too different from the future. They must be. This house was just renovated. Yours probably has been lived in for years."

"This can't be," Ron shouted. "It not bloody possible to travel in time longer than a few hours. My best friend I tell you is expert of time travel and she will tell you the same."

"Maybe you unique case." Billy gruffly thumped Ron's back. "You me nephew are the greatest wizard around. You wouldn't believe 'ow 'ong I wanted to mee' speci' Weasley."

"That's enough, Billy. I am as pleased about this family development as you are, but you need to sober up my dear."

"Fine. I go to bloody 'ed." Billy rampantly thumped Ron's back again. "Till the morrow, my sweet swarrow."

After Billy left, Cedrella laughed heartedly. "He meant sparrow, but his words barely ever make sense when he's this far gone."

"You know what I think," Ron said. "I think you are trying to make me feel better by putting less people around me. I'm not fooled, you… you scarlet women. Well I tell you I won't be happy until I'm at Hogwart's again and hanging out with Hermione." And Harry, once Harry admitted what he did.

"And all I want is for you to understand that you have time travelled and that your wish won't happen in a long time, if at all." She was yelling now. She was no longer the laidback captor. "I will show you around the house ten billion times if I have to. By the end of the night you will admit it. Or Merlin, I'll be damned."

"I'm leaving." Ron stood straight, now towering over the shorter woman. "I'm not sticking for another moment in this stupid prank."

"Merlin, you really have the Weasley stubbornness. It's like a fire that refuses to break even though it's most obvious that you're wrong. You're in the year 1975. A month before your parent's wedding. Did they ever tell you that the Burrow was renovated for months before their wedding?"

"No. They didn't tell me shit about the Burrow's boring history. And I don't care about listening to anymore of your rubbish." Ron scowled at her smirking face.

"Stubborn old fool, you are." She shook her head in amusement.

"No, I'm…" Ron began to deny again, but then Ron couldn't help but feel far too knackered at that moment. All his readiness to find another way to deny the words he heard, the things he saw, the answers he was given, fell apart. He was stuck in the realization that, maybe, a prank never happened. That maybe, the crazy old man was actually the headmaster he adored, and that the fire he lived through had happened, but only in his time, and somehow the fire lead him into another time.

Somehow he really burned down the Gryffindor Common Room. Maybe even the whole Gryffindor Tower. Somehow he really accidently caused the deaths… no. He wouldn't think about that.

He needed to think about the possibility of time travel. Maybe science he time traveled the fire would never happen anymore. Harry and Hermione had talked about their trip to the past plenty of times. They had fixed Sirius's fate through it. But he never imagined that time travel could be this long-winded.

In a daze, Ron walked away from the outside and entered the entryway again. Barely noticing the confused shouts behind him. Walking pass the welcoming mat, he gazed around the living room. Boxes lay in every itch of the room. Fragments of wood sprinkled over the carpet. And then he noticed the clock hanging on the wall. And there, within the clock, bore the proof he needed to finally believe that he was in the past. He could believe this was a joke if written on the clock was the names Cedrella Weasley, Bilius Weasley and all the family members in the Weasley family that lived in the 1970s. But the clock only held the names Arthur and Molly. Just like his parents always said the clock had until their children were each born. The clock had not yet transformed to fit all his parent's children's names.

"That's your Uncle Richard's wedding present for your parents. He found it in a shop and knew he wanted it."

"Good old Uncle Dick," Ron muttered and turned to the woman. "I'm so damn tired of denying you know. I just can't believe it. I really burned down the Gryffindor Tower. I killed…."

And at that moment Ron realized it. The reason why he refused so vigorously that he was in the past. He didn't want to believe that the fire really did happen. That he really killed so many people from one foolish, klutzy action.

"No, my dear, you didn't." He could feel her soft arms around his neck.

"I did. I walked though it. I coughed it up." He could feel her warm hand massage his shoulder.

She turned his face to look directly at hers and said finely. "No one died. It's not possible to die from fire in a Hogwart's fireplace.

"No one can survive fire."

"But magical flames are different. The one's at Hogwart's are protected. They can't harm anyone."

"Then why did I get so burned?" He shook his previously burned arms at hers. They would still be scorched if it weren't for Madam Pomfrey's healing.

"Because of the stinging hexes in the fire for anyone foolish enough to trifle with a Hogwart's fire."

RWMMRWMM

A nice warm cup of hot chocolate often made Ron's father feel better after a long day at work. Therefore, Ron was barely surprised when Cedrella gave him some the next morning for breakfast. She also made some scrumptious sausage, bacon, and runny poached eggs on top of fried bread. It wasn't as much as the multitude his mother made, but it was enough to make Ron feel good as he ate his first meal with his grandmother.

Last night was hard. He took forever to finally listen to the poor woman and accept her condolences. Ron tried to tell himself again and again to not imagine that the fire was real. He desperately wanted to believe that the fire didn't harm anyone. And so he would try to believe the fact his grandmother gave him and hope that it was true.

As Ron busily ate his meal, Cedrella slurped her cuppa and watched him with a bewildered gaze. "Its like I'm watching Arthur eating again at fourteen."

"We look that much alike?" Ron never heard that before. People always said his brother Bill was like a ganglier-version of his father. People just said Ron looked like any Weasley.

"Very. You also got much of Billy's built too. Your both so lanky." Cedrella laughed. "Which is just perfect you see."

"Doesn't help much when I hit my head walking through a door." Ron cringed at remembering the awkward moment he hit his chin on the door of Hermione's father's car. Ron had hoped to easily enter the strange muggle contraption, but ended up wasting his night at Mungos instead. Worse that meant he never got to see that movie Hermione had raved about.

A gruff laugh shot through the room. Billy had arrived. Ron was quite more comfortable referring to this man as Billy than as his Uncle. Ron hated how he could no longer hope that his Uncle never died. At least it was a heart attack, not a fire. Or that would make Ron think about flames and dying and how it's his entire fault and how he didn't deserve to live when he so foolishly caused a huge fire and now was responsible for the end of Gryffindor Tower.

No. No. No. Ron was going to think positive thoughts. Positive thoughts.

"You tell her." Billy settled next to Ron. He grabbed a sausage in his hand and sucked it up like a worm in his mouth. Now that was fine eating.

Cedrella grunted in disdained. "You really need to cut that up before you eat. You too Ron. I don't want to see you both scarfing down your meals like banshees.

"Sorry, Mummy. I'll try to be good." Billy winked childishly at her. But still ate greedily.

And so did Ron. After the day he had yesterday, he was in the mind that he deserved to eat as he liked.

Cedrella huffed with a huge frown. "Someday you really need to grow up Billy. I hate to imagine what Gail would think if you ate like that on your wedding day."

"She's just a fling. I never getting married," Billy declared. He whispered in Ron's ear. "I'm a fine bachelor, you see."

Ron laughed. That was just like Uncle Billius. Never wanting to settle down.

"But thankfully I got a plan to make you man-up." Cedrella smiled wryly. "You've been a greedily little bugger since you were laid off nine months ago."

Billy scooted back in his chair. "Not this again. You do this like every time I come along. Maybe I should just never visit. How do you like that?"

"And how would you like it if I decided to no longer pay for your flat?"

"Sounds like a grand idea. I can't wait to see you living on the streets!" An older man entered the room and flicked his wand so a kettle would boil some water for tea. Once it was finished, he smiled at Ron and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you. Ron, right?"

"Yeah. Has Gran, I mean Cedrella told…"

"Yes, yes. I know. You're Arty's future son. Its lovely to meet you. And quite incredible. I haven't heard of anyone who's traveled so far back. And to think you are only fifteen."

"Fourteen, actually," Ron corrected. "Won't be fifteen till March."

"Oh, when's your birthday?" Cedrella perked up. "Its only October, but it won't hurt to be prepared."

"March 1st. Nothing special."

"Oi, it is. Do you know Richard, an old friend, not your uncle, was born on that day," Ron's grandfather exclaimed.

"Oh." Ron now felt even lousier. Now his birthday would be attributed to some old fart.

"Yeah, its quite interesting how so many can be born on the same day. If legend is correct, I was born on Godric Gryffindor's birthday!" His grandfather grinned widely.

"We know dad." Billy punched his father's shoulder. "We know the best founder is your birthday twin. Congratulations."

"The best." Cedrella smiled. "I remember the day I was sorted into Gryffindor. It was a wild day. I was finally free from expectation. You see, I was a Black and our family never before had a Gryffindor. But then I can belong and became the first Black Gryffindor."

"And a marvelous one you are!" Ron's grandfather banged the table in delight.

"What?" Ron stared widely at Cedrella. "You're a Black. I thought Sirius was the first Black Gryffindor."

"Well that arrogant fool told you wrong," Cedrella snapped.

"Ella," Ron's grandfather said softly, rubbing her shoulders. She relaxed at his touch.

"Sorry," Cedrella sighed. "I'm just rugged when I hear all the news about how grand the first Black Gryffindor is from all the people I know from Hogwarts. And none of them even remember that I was the first one. Its always like I'm chopped liver ever since I marred Septimus."

"Bloody stupid, if I say. We Weasley deserve better." Billy hollered. "Not all that 'why the hell should we care about those gingers that are poorer than flobberworms.'"

"And then…" Cedrella continued her rant. "They go 'oh poor boy. His mother dislikes him. His father can barely stand him.' Its not like he was kicked out of his own home at eleven. My family blasted my name as soon as they heard I was Gryffindor!"

Ron listened in shock. He never imagined that the world would ignore the fact that a Black got in Gryffindor. And now he could only imagine the horrible life his grandmother must have as an outcast in her family. Those damn Slytherin families and there blasted disrespect for the only decent ones who got into the greatest house.

His grandmother scratched her nose and sighed. "But I can't just go on and on. There's no point thinking about how much I hate my damn luck. I didn't call you both to this breakfast to yell myself copper. I wanted to tell you two my plan for Ron."

"Plan?" Sweat sweltered down Ron's neck. His mother always used the word plan before handing out chores. He hated being forced to clean up.

"Yes. I've got a perfect plan to help you get settled into Hogwarts under a good identity."

"Oh!" Now that was less worrying. "So I can go back to Hogwarts? How long do you think it take before I can get back to my time?"

"I don't know. You might never be able to get back. We can try, but who knows how time travel works," his grandmother said sadly. "But yes, you're going to be enrolled again. So the whole sorting even will happen. And guess what?"

"What?" Ron perked up in his chair.

"You're going to pretend to be Billy's son." His grandmother smirked wickedly at Billy.

"Why can't he be Arty's?" Billy whined. "I don't want to be part of this whole parent thing."

"Arthur is busy planning his wedding," Cedrella explained. "We're not going to bother him with this strange event while he's enjoying his life. And anyways, he's only 25 for Pete's sake. It would be impossible for him to have a fourteen-year-old child."

"I've got no job. I don't want to deal with people barking all about my suppose son. What would Gail say?" Billy glared at his mother as he raved.

"Hush up, child." Ron's grandmother glared at her son. "All you got to do is sign his Hogsmeade permission slip and make sure you give Ron some of your money for any supplies he needs. I'll be around to make sure you do it all right."

"I'm confused," Ron interrupted. "So if Billy's going to be my father and all, they where the Merlin was I all these years. Won't people be wondering?"

"You'll be taught by me and your grandfather the past few years. Ever since we found you at an orphanage where your birth mother, Amelia, dropped you off…"

"Wait a minute," Billy gasped. "You're not going to pretend he's Bobbie Parkinson?"

"Yes. I am." Cedrella smiled. "You heard everyone's rumours. Amelia left school after dating you and then turned up pregnant before disappearing off with her kid right after he was born. Everyone thinks you were the father. So, why not? Especially since Amelia's long dead. Dead man can tell no tales. Plus Bobbie probably doesn't even know who the hell he is!"

RWMMRWMM

A week later Ron paced back and forth in the corridor right outside the Great Hall.

His mine was going crazy with nervousness. He kept telling himself that it was going to be fine. All he had to do was wait patiently for the wacko Younger Dumbledore to introduce him and then get sorted into Gryffindor again. After that he would make friends with the boys in his dorm. By golly, he hoped the boys would be more interesting than Dean and Seamus. Any second now Dumbledore would introduce him and he would be free from this lunacy. Any second now, he would be free of this waiting.

Instead it took what felt like two hours for Professor McGonagall to meet him by the doors to the Great Hall.

"Hmph, mister, before you go in, I want no dillydallying. I need you to give Albus and all the other professors the respect they deserve. Do you understand?" She spoke in such a rushed manner that Ron almost missed understanding her words.

"What I do to you to make you put up a fuss? You may be strict in my time, but nothing …"

"You heard the Headmaster, no mentioning that you are from the future," Professor McGonagall interrupted him midsentence.

"Oh, please, like anyone is listening."

"Hee, hee, hee, is Peaves hearing right. Gonnally being tough cookie to Ginger here?" Peeves flew around them in a hurried woosh. "Gonnally and Ginger got a secret. Ginger got a secret. Gonnally got a secret. The duo of secrets."

"Leave us, Peeves." Professor McGonagall pressed her wand against Peeves face. "Obliviate."

While Peeves blinked and look around, Professor McGonagall quickly pocketed her wand. When the poltergeist saw Professor McGonagall, he clapped his translucent hands. "Gonnally looks weird. Gonnally looks weird. Like a pocket full of chicken seared." He continued to sing the song as he floated into the Great Hall.

Ron agreed with the new song. Professor McGonagall looked bonkers with reddened face, her hunched legs and her arms arched like a chicken. He let out a chuckle as he imagined the teacher as a chicken on a farm.

"Control yourself," Professor McGonagall snapped. "It will be 10 points from you house if I see you laughing at a teacher again."

Ron struggled to stop laughing, but ever time he started to stop, a chuckle escaped from the back of his throat and the laughter began anew.

"Silencio." Light wrinkles prickled on her forehead as her eyes glared down at Ron. Whoa, Professor McGonagall was really intense when she was younger. "It is only your first day and you already lost your house points. I hope to see you acting like a model student from now on."

Ron waved at his mouth, hoping she would free him from muteness.

"I guess that would be too much to hope for." Professor McGonagall stared him down with a grimace that almost tore her face in half. "I hope you at least understand that you need to be careful. We cannot have any more people wondering about your secrets. Am I understood?"

Ron waved at his mouth again. She nodded and motioned to do the countercurse when she stopped suddenly. "If I give you your voice back, do you promise to at least give the Headmaster you utmost respect?"

Ron gulped and nodded fervently.

She muttered the countercurse and then gestured to the door. "Lets get this over with." And after one last glare, she flung the doors open.

The hall never appeared more crowded in his life. Far too many bodies sat in clusters around the four house tables. Ron could barely glance from one place to another without seeing another twenty students. Wow, his dad was right when he said that Hogwarts used to be full to the brim.

When they reached the stool where the Sorting Hat blinked curiously at Ron, Professor Dumbledore began his speech.

"Welcome to another Halloween Celebration. I am glad to see you all in a festive spirits for this truly wonderful holiday. From my youth, I have always hoped to celebrate it in a special way each year. Last year I made pumpkins that sprinkled my favorite candies with my dearest friends Professor Hallidale and the late Professor Sewelyn. This year I am proud to introduce Hogwarts first transfer student in its history. I hope you all welcome young Robert Wesley with open arms. Before joining our beloved school, Mr. Weasley was homeschooled by his Grandmother. I hope you help his transition to Hogwarts go smoothly."

Ron was glad that his grandparents and Billy decided on letting him keep his last name. He rather liked his last name. Plus Ron found it easier to tell the people he would meet that he had only knew his father's identity. It would leave for everyone else to wonder whom the new kid's mother was. If they even cared at all, which Ron doubted.

He also liked the idea to replace his blue eyes with a brown shade close to Billy's. Ron also liked his new small mustache. Both changes were a good way for Sirius and Wormtail not to recognize him in the future.

As Ron walked towards the Sorting Hat waiting patiently on a chair in front of the teacher's table, Ron heard several people yawning and whispering. His face reddened when he saw people watching him closely with intrigued expressions. This was so weird.

Once Ron put the hat on his head, it stayed silent for several moments. That was strange. Ron expected the soft, cheerful voice that said, "Ah, this is easy," like it did the first time around. The silence caused Ron to feel worried that the hat wouldn't sort him. That it would decide that it couldn't sort him again. The Sorting Hat snickered at Ron worries.

"For Calypso's sake," the Sorting Hat exclaimed to Ron's mind. "I will sort you like I sort everyone. I don't care if I have to sort you again in the future. Especially since that version of you will be entirely different from the person I am on top of today."

"Really," Ron asked. "You don't care."

"Not at all," the Sorting Hat answered. "And neither do I care about my future decision. I don't care about holding a person in the same house they once was. Especially for a case like yours."

"What? You're not putting me in Gryffindor? But I belong there. I'm brave. I'm a Weasley we belong in Gryffindor!" Ron shoulders started to shake with worry. "This isn't happening. This can't be happening."

"Sometimes I wonder why you humans care so much about what your family does. My tendency to place people from the same family in the same house is not deliberate. It happens that most people in the same family bear the same characteristics. Or sometimes I feel like agreeing to the wishes of the pour souls who beg for their family's house, even if they do not belong. However, you Ron are older than those rattled eleven-year-olds who need my pity."

"I don't give a Blasted-End-Skrewt about your pity. I want to be in Gryffindor."

"You speak like a child. Like all those eleven-year-olds who beg. I worry that you will grow younger still if you remain where you feel you belong. Think of my choice as a chance, as a pathway to adulthood, as a chance to see the world differently. You time traveled for a reason. I cannot know what it is. I see your angry, your mad at your most dearest friend. You insisting still that he lied because you refuse to open your eyes. Maybe its jealousy. Or maybe it's the greedy nature of yours that you pretend is not childish. I hope in time you see the truth. You're a good person. Never doubt that. But I feel like I cannot waste my chance on giving you the best house for you."

"You…You're making a mistake." Ron yelled so loud that the whole hall could hear him.

"No. No I am not. There is only one way for you to grow up and for your ambitions to come true," the Sorting Hat said soothingly. "SLYTHERIN."

Ron flung the hat in the air and ran out of the Great Hall. There was no way he would ever sit at the Slytherin table.

 **AN-**

 **Ah, finally Ron is in Slytherin and about to hate his own house for awhile.**

 **Thanks for the great response last chapter! When I posted the chapter I hoped for at least three reviews and I want to thank Psych0Geek, JeanAndBilius and Guest for reviewing.**

 **I am looking forward to continuing this story and hope everyone continues to enjoy it!**

 **Before I end this note, I want to give a shout out to the current fanfiction I am obsessing over. Its another Ron-centric time-travel fiction. Its The Red Knight by Demon Eyes Laharl. The story is very mysterious and the latest chapter was hilarious. I hope you try it!**

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **HappyTerrier**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does.**

Chapter 4:

Damn that bloody Sorting Hat. Damn it to bloody smithereens. Damn its ridiculous idea. It's the stupidest piece of rubbish Ron ever knew. Like he needed to grow up. He was pretty mature for his age. Most kids would run away screaming when following their worst fear. Most kids would throw a fit at having to live in another time.

That blasted scheming hat. It probably wanted him to be stuck with future Death Eaters until he could return home. It did ridicule him for his reaction to Harry entering the Twiwizard Tournament. It did dare propose the idea that he abandoned Harry for greed as if he was a bloody Slytherin.

If only screaming in this hallway could help. If only his chest could stop churning. If only he could feel like he wasn't choking on his own spit. But the room kept spinning and the armor kept laughing at him. He could hear it clamoring on the floor.

Hermione would tell him to stay calm. But Ron bloody couldn't. Nothing could change the fact that the hat bloody announced to the whole school that he was a future Death Eater scum. Nothing.

"Weasley!" Someone shouted behind him. Ron refused to find out who it was. The only possibilities were people he rather not converse with.

"Robert Weasley," Another voice called with obvious fake cheerfulness. "I will not lie to you. You are already in Hippogriff rubbish from where I stand, so I would advise you to listen to us. You do not want to ruin your image further."

"Don't want to talk," Ron snapped bitterly. "Leave me be."

"We very much wish we could," the first voice said. "Yet, we still do our job."

Someone stepped around him. It was a rather obese girl with a startling clear face. A Prefect badge shinned on the left side of her chest. "We are the fifth year prefects of Slytherin House. My colleague over there is Cadmus Greengrass…" Of course, Slytherins had to pick such bloody ridiculous names. "… and I am Niobe Warrington."

Ron snickered; she had an even more rubbish name. "Those are the stupidest names I ever heard."

Instead of yelling at him, like Malfoy would have, the girl simply chuckled at Ron's reactions. "Yes. Our names can seem a bit strange. Especially to a low class family such as yours, Robert."

Not that got him. "How dare you. My family is far better than your family can ever hope to be. We don't go killing Muggle-borns and hexing muggles and believe in blood purity nonsense."

The girl smiled at Ron's outburst. "Now, now. Robert. If you cannot accept a critique, do not go out sharing some of your own."

At that point, the other prefect tapped Ron on his shoulder and held out his hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you." Ron's eyes remained clued at the boy's long ponytail. It reminded him faintly of his oldest brother Bill. The boy waited a moment for Ron to shake his hand and then sighed. "I guess your going to live up to Nie's expectations then. Pity."

"As if there was any doubt." Warrington smirked, revealing shiny, chipped teeth. Gross, they looked like a skeleton. "After listening to his outburst in the Great Hall, it was impossible for you to be right."

The other prefect must have noticed Ron's look of disgust because he chuckled, "Its for Samhain. That's why Nie's teeth appear so wicked. A rather brilliant potion, I might add. We could give you some, if you like."

"Gross." Ron grimace became wider, stepping backward nervously. "Keep your grotty teeth to yourself."

The two prefects glanced at each other and after a moment seemed to agree on something. While Greengrass left to go behind Ron somewhere, Warrington asked, "Do you us to continue to freak you out or follow us to your dorm room?"

"Just leave. I'll find a place for myself," Ron replied.

"I thought you would be reluctant at entering the Slytherin dorms." The girl frowned. "Your display in the Great Hall greatly dismayed much of your housemates. You are already in great trouble and I hope you understand that you need to make up for your unbecoming reaction earlier."

"Trust us." Warrington had returned with a dusty suitcase. "You can either reject us again and sleep in an empty classroom or someplace equally uncomfortable or join us and sleep in the best dorm at Hogwarts. I am pretty jealous you have the chance to room in the Seventh year dorm as a Fourth year. So much more cozy than a typical dorm. Merlin, I would have transferred if I known."

"Pretty sure everyone would." Greengrass grinned. "And have begged for Slytherin. From my sources, all the other houses keep everyone stuck in the same room all seven years."

"One of the benefits of belonging to the most noble house." Warrington grabbed the suitcase from the other prefect. "What's inside this suitcase sure has seen better days. Ditto to the classrooms. A bit more ragged than our dorms. So, your choice, Robert. "

"Bugger off," Ron snapped. He had no bloody idea why he was still talking to them. "Go back to your stinking, cold dorm. I want nothing to do with you future followers of You-Know-Who."

The girl threw the dusty suitcase at his feet. "Fine with me." She then turned to her partner. "Think we did enough to satisfy dear Slug?"

"Plenty," Greengrass replied cheerfully, shaking his long ponytail. "Come on, we've got a party to go to. Think they still have some Cockroach Clusters?"

"Please. Michel never runs out. Its more the Firewhiskey I'm worried about."

The two began to walk away, much to Ron's relief, when Greegrass decided to bother Ron one last time. The sneaky future Death Eater whispered in Ron's ear. "One last warning, one of the rules at Hogwarts is staying away from the Forbidden Forest. It's hard to miss. A very wide foreboding woods outside, past a rather munted shack. More than ever, do not dare enter the Forbidden Forest tonight."

RWMMRWMM

At first it appeared that the Forbidden Forest was quiet. When Ron entered the forest, he could only hear the soft whish from the tree's falling leaves and branches. He wished Harry or Hermione was beside him as he walked pass the dark brown trees further into the forest. A chilly breeze ran pass him and a tree branch almost hit his shoulder. For the first of many times that night, Ron wished he never decided to find out what was going on in the forest.

The two Slytherin Prefects had rattled him. The way they pretended that they were actually interested in allowing him into their house. The way they acted like they were normal and not evil. They had given him a suitcase full of the crappiest clothing he ever seen. The ragged cape riddled with dust-bunnies was simply vulgar. But the pink and blue dress robe rolling with frills was even worst than the horrendous dress robe Ron's mother had bought him last summer. It had reminded him of a mixture of a ghoul and a clown.

Warrington's final words kept creeping into his mind while he looked through those grotty clothes. The boy future Death Eater had to practically say they were planning on doing something horrible in the forest. They could be hexing Muggle-borns with the Unforgivable Curses or even leaving them to be eaten by the Acromantula. Only a true snake would know what horrible deeds the Slytherins were doing.

The idea of leaving the Slytherins to do those horrible things had made up his mind to try to stop them. But now all he wanted was to leave the creepy woods. Reminding himself that his other choice was to sleep knowing he would never know what the Slytherins' plans were, Ron continued to walk through the darkness. He continued to feel the tree branches bristling pass his hands. He continued to walk alone.

Halloween at Hogwarts had been a night where Ron knew something bad was going to happen to him. The troll first year, facing Filch's accusations in Dumbledore's office second year, sleeping in the Great Hall Third year. He had thought this year was the worst when he lost his best friend. But now he guessed this Halloween would contain the worst event of his life.

He could now hear blatant cheering. Drunken voices singing and hollering so loud Ron imagined for a second he was in the Gryffindor Common Room during a Quidditch Victory Party. But then he remembered he was in the woods where future Death Eaters were probably busy enjoying a night of hurting Muggle-borns. He bet he was going to die tonight. The Slytherin's were going to kill him for daring to infiltrate their plans.

Suddenly, he smelled something disgusting, like turnips. He then noticed it came from him. He sneezed and gagged at the smell. A high laugh followed, followed by the sound of thunder.

"It's a pity you didn't listen to Cadmus's advice," Warrington's voice echoed across the trees. "It goes to show we are right and you are truly a Gryffindor. I really wonder what you did to the hat to have him place you so in a house you simply do not belong to."

"Like I bloody hell now. Get this smell off me," Ron screamed, hating the sound of his horror. "Get it off."

The sound of thunder continued, steadily increasing in volume. The smell on him worsened, turning into the worst blend of smoky firewood and fish. "Hah. Begging never helps. Only answers. If you ever want to be accepted into Slytherin, that's the first thing you need to know."

"I didn't want to be in bloody Slytherin." Ron rubbed his nose, hoping that anything would end the terrible smell. "I'm just going to stop you Death Eaters from hurting all the Muggle-borns."

Warrington laughed. Rain began to fall over his arms and the smell eased slightly. "You are bonkers, Robert Weasley, simply bonkers. You really thought were out here to hurt people. On Samhain of all days." The girl continued to giggle fervently. "We are here to party. The party of the year, many will say. A pity you proved you cannot join us this year."

A bright light flickered between them. He could now see the outlines of the girl's smirking face. Ron clenched his wand tightly, terrified at whatever was going to happen next. This dark forest could be the least place he ever stood.

"Ex…Ex." No, disarming wouldn't do any good. What was a good hex? What was something that would help him? Why didn't he pay more attention in Defense?

"Answer me this." Warrington said. Ron could now make her out from the shadows of the trees. "Are you here to change Slytherin on the inside out because you believe brash people like you are better than us in some way?"

"I wanted to be in Gryffindor." Ron gripped his wand more tightly. Running spell ideas in his mind. _That Summoning spell. That hex Ginny blabbered about. That first year spell, Wingardium Leviosa._ "The bloody hat went bonkers on ridiculous idea that I needed to grow up."

The light beamed brighter. Yellow glare heated up in Ron's eyes, making them itch worst than when they did after Fred and George put itching powder onto his pillow. "That bloody hat," The Slytherin girl groaned as her shadow swindled around behind her. "That bloody hat."

"There you are Nie." Someone unfamiliar called. The voice's Irish accent reminded Ron of Seamus. "What's keeping your Hinypunk in a rut?"

"Nothing Margaret," Warrington answered. Ron could see a tall girl now standing next to Warrington in the shadows of the trees. "Just dealing with a crasher."

"Ah, the transfer." The mysterious girl walked closer to Ron and he could feel her hand near his face, see her yellow teeth glittering from a small ball of yellow light. "Definitely a Weasley. Like a blind cobbler's thumb they are."

The girl's red ringlets brushed against Ron's chin. He could feel heat rising in his chest. "I'm not the one with horrible yellow teeth. I bet your even more munted in the daylight. Like a arse-faced banshee."

A spell hit him and Ron felt his nose prickled. The redhead girl said softly. "Nah, I think your going to be the monster who scares everyone tomorrow."

"Nice, Margaret," Warrington said. "I think that's your best work yet."

The two girls laughed and the sounds of the party bellowed in the background. Ron continued to scrub his nose, causing his palm to itch from a sharp end. He will get that girl if it was the last thing he did and all those horrible future Death Eaters.

"I'm sorry Weasley, but this party is for true Slytherins only." Warrington's friend said when her giggling subsided. "Crabbe, Avery, can you make sure our new housemate finds his dormitory. I would hate to think we are unwelcoming to our new _Slytherin_."

 **AN-**

 **Happy Halloween!**

 **Thank you everyone who is reading _When All Seems Lost._**

 **I greatly appreciate your reviews, JeanAndBilius and Arla Logan. Its wonderful to know your opinions of this story so far.**

 **I hope everyone has a memorable Halloween,**

 **HappyTerrier**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does.**

Chapter 5:

His night couldn't have gone worst. First, Crabbe and Avery roughly dragged him through the Forbidden Forest. (Well, Crabbe dragged him while Avery babbled nearby). Then, they had to run into Filch, looking younger but far more scowling, and received a detention for the following night. And now, finally, Avery was trying to make a full out of him by acting all nice.

"Aren't you glad we're the one's told to send you off?" Avery grinned at Ron. "No one else would have cared enough to send you here, with you being so grumpy and all."

When Ron's stomach had growled a few minutes ago, Avery immediately announced that they needed to go to the kitchens. Ron, happy at the thought of food, decided what the hell, and agreed. Crabbe simply grinned and sped towards the hallway leading to a painting a fruit. The obtuse idiot jumped about as he tickled the pear that led to a door forming. Avery smiled at Ron and, like a classy butler, raised his hand and waited for Ron to enter first. Ron couldn't help by give off a delighted laugh when he realized he was entering the kitchens. Avery laughed at Ron's reaction and the broad shoulder gorilla soon towered over Ron as house-elves served the three of them leftovers from the feast.

Ron devoured his meal faster than he ever had before, enjoying the taste of chocolate-covered chicken, meat pies topped with pumpkin mush and steaming potatoes sprinkled with green stuff. He wouldn't be surprise if he ate as fast as a broom doing a Celerretile Maneuver. Crabbe gleefully ate a large bowl of pudding and occasionally dipped some éclairs in the chocolaty delight. Avery talked about himself and Crabbe, nibbling occasionally on a roll. Apparently, Avery was in the year above him and Crabbe in his year.

When Ron ate the best éclair in his life, Avery said, "You know, I'm actually glad Warrington forced us from the party. This is so much better than being a slave to the sixth and seventh years all night. I thought I was going to have to juggle this heavy lout and shove Honeydukes chocolate to all the greedy buggers all night. Honeydukes a shop in Hogsmeade. Village nearby. Pretty good stuff, but nothing's as great as Crabbe's grandfather's homemade pudding."

"Pudding," Crabbe cheered, his chocolate-dripping fist banged against the table, causing two house-elves to skip backwards.

Avery continued, an amused smirk on his face, "Or my friend Adrian's Banofee pie. I used to think bananas stank no matter what form, but then I tried it, and now I can't get enough. Or those chocolate-chip cookies I steal from one of my roommates who hide them in his sheets. Never tell him, my friend, because if you do we will loose the war. And you don't want Sewlyn to win. Trust me."

"Not you're friend," Ron mumbled while eating another éclair, scratching his nose, twitching a bit in reaction to its current pointiness.

"Oh Weasley, you really need to stop being so mean. If you keep this up you'll be stuck being Sewlyn's punching bag all the time and no one would care. Who knows, his lackeys in your year might even have you strung up in the Great Hall's ceilings naked. And it's bad enough with the Gryffindors..."

"Gryffindor mean," Crabbe commented, shutting his eyes for a second while his hands trembled.

Ron glared at the gorilla. That boy was as dumb as his son. "Gryffindor's are good people. Way better than all the Slytherin's who cheer at the though of muggles slaves."

"Now that's uncalled for. Just because your family is Gryffindor crazy, doesn't mean that people are good because they're Gryffindor. Please. Next you'll say all Slytherins are evil."

"They are evil." Ron crunched a éclair in his hand.

Avery scratched the back of his head, his teeth shining from an upturned smile. "Ah, I can see them now, those Gryffindors cutting you up in tiny little pieces until your intestines are flung over the floor. While we evil Slytherins levitate you gently to the Hospital Wing, wondering the whole time why we're helping such a prejudice idiot."

Ron stood up so he could look Avery directly in the eyes. "You, you're the prejudice scumbag. How dare you imply Gryffindors would be that cruel? I tell you…"

"Ah, you remind me of one my roommates. He was all, boo Slytherin the first few months. Came from a Gryffindor inclined family as well. But then four Gryffindor boys started doing the nastiest things to him and we helped him after every one. So he knew we had his back. And then came last year. It got so bad…" Avery shivered. "…I'll just say Brown was in the Hospital Wing for two months."

Ron stared at the Avery, a sharp pain in his chest. "You're lying. That couldn't have happened. Gryffindor's would never do something that would cause … you know."

Avery leaned his thick arm against the table and said gently. "Look, don't believe me. But no matter how much you think you know about Gryffindors from what your family has told you, all of its wrong when you're a Slytherin."

"But I'm a Gryffindor!" Ron shouted back. "The hat only put me in Slytherin to punish me. Buggering about me needing to grow up."

"Regardless of what the hat said, the Gryffindors won't care. They do their worst to you. Maybe even cause you to loose your head. Especially if you don't start accepting friendship offers."

"It won't matter. When I'm resorted tomorrow morning. It won't mean a damn thing." Ron cheered up at the idea. Once he was resorted, this whole nasty snake problem would be a long forgotten nightmare.

Avery leaned his head back, smirking. "Whatever, believe what you want. You know, I truly don't understand the appeal of Gryffindor. One my friend's is friends with a bitchy girl in Gryffindor. Never got the appeal. Every time she talks to me she yells at me for forcing Sev to do this and that. Like I have any control of the bloke. Merlin, sometimes I wish he was never friends with that mudblood."

Heat rose up to Ron's forehead at the word 'mudblood.' Now there was confirmation that Avery was as bad as he thought. His fist tightened on the plate of éclairs and he threw the plate over at the gorilla's ruddy face. Avery quickly twisted sideways to try to avoid the hit. Even though Ron missed the slimy Slytherin's face, he did cover the boy's robes with bits of dough, crème and chocolate.

To Ron's amazement, Avery simply shrugged. "It'll get off."

"I knew it." Ron yelled, annoyed by Avery's calm reaction. "I knew you were an awful, no good, despicable Slytherin! How dare you. How dare you. Muggle-borns are far better than you Death Eaters will ever be."

Avery sighed, nodding in understanding. "Oh, that's it. Your one of those people who get offended easily. No need to go bonkers. Its just a word."

"Just a word!" Ron yelled even louder this time. Feeling glad he didn't have to feel guilty by not accepting this blood purists attempts at kindness. "It's distasteful. It's horrible. Merlin, Hermione. Saying that word your being disgraceful to good people like her that are far better than you could ever hope to be." Dammit, it was like he was listening to Malfoy laughing after the ferret called Hermione that word.

Completely furious, Ron grabbed the latest bowl of pudding Crabbe was eating from and threw it at Avery's head. This time Avery was ready and used a quick spell to still the bowl in the air right before it hit his cheeks. The tall boy stood up and leaned over Ron, grabbing his hand.

"Fine. Be bloody alone for all I care." Avery's nails dug sharply into Ron's palms. "Just don't go all muggle on me." He turned to Crabbe. "Come on, let's show him to his room."

Crabbe grunted and cried, "Pudding," glancing in sadness at the bowl of pudding.

RWMMRWMM

Ron had spent the rest of the night struggling to fall asleep. Every time he felt his cautiousness almost drifting away, he shot up in alarm from the sounds of people laughing outside his door. No matter which way he turned, the pillow became deathly hot and uncomfortable against his neck. His nose kept tearing into the pillow, definitely still stuck in the redhead Slytherin's spell because it was pointier than his typical nose. (Bugger, that was more reason Avery was not as nice as he was pretending to be. Him not bothering to fix his nose.)

The only light in his room had come from the small tickles of silver beams hanging from the ceiling. They reminded him of the lights that his mother hanged up in the Burrow's barn during Christmas time. Something Ron rather not recall because he couldn't imagine he would ever see those lights again. The room smelled like hippogriff dung and looked like a Slytherin hideout with everything stained in green and silver.

When the sign of red light came beaming through the room's window, Ron decided that enough was enough, his stomach was grumbling like crazy, so he needed to eat breakfast. His footsteps echoed through the hallways he stepped through on the way to the Great Hall. Passing no one, but feeling like some invisible observer was watching him, Ron's stomach groaned nervously the whole time. When he entered the Great Hall, Ron the looked around the practically empty tables, unsure where he should go to eat breakfast. The only thing he was sure about was that he wouldn't willingly choose the Slytherin table.

Ignoring his churning stomach that begged him not to, Ron chose to eat at his usual spot at the Gryffindor table. As he ate his eggs and bacon, Ron imagined that this was an ordinary day and that next to him Harry was talking about Quidditch and, on Harry's other side, Hermione read a schoolbook while haphazardly flinging bits of toast in her mouth. Yes, now Ron would be telling Harry about some Quidditch player's latest folly and then bug Hermione about reading too much.

"You shouldn't be eating here," a quiet voice said, with a slightly familiar thick drawl. Ron glanced up to see a girl – holly Merlin – with the worst chin he ever seen. It looked like a messed up arse.

Ron shrugged. "Thanks for the warning, but I'm eating here. I'm supposed to be in Gryffindor, see. The hat only put me in Slytherin because it said I needed to grow up."

The girl nodded. "I understand. I would hate it too if the Sorting Hat screamed Slytherin for me. But, you really don't want to deal with the people who will be sitting here later."

"What do you mean?" Ron gazed curiously at the girl, noticing her hands now fiddling with her curly blond bangs.

"That's it you see. The boys who sit here usually are very mean to anyone in Slytherin. So really…" Suddenly her eyebrows raised and her fingers touched his still transfigured nose. "Maggie did this," she whispered to herself.

Ron snorted. "You call the horrid snake Marg-a-nutter-et that."

Laughing, the girl replied, "Yeah. She's my sister. She often done that to me every chan…" Her eyes flickered mid-word and she frowned at something behind him. "They're coming. I'm sorry, you really need to go."

"Look who we have here," An excited yell echoed across the room. The barking aspect of the voice reminded Ron of someone. Could it be? Sirius? "The newest snake just waiting for our welcome. Woah, I never been this pleased in my life. Oh, Morgana and Circe, what a lovely nose, I never seen such a great creation, please tell me, Nosey, where you got it."

Ron turned to find four boys heading his way. The voice was Sirius. A Sirius who looked so much better than the one time Ron ever talked to him. His black hair swished back and forth and his face lacked any signs of dirt. Next to them was Harry's father, looking so much like Ron's ex-best-friend. Like Harry's, the boy's hair stuck up in amusing ruffles over his head. Unlike Harry, his face appeared more angular and he seemed as tall as Ron himself. Lupin looked like Lupin, except shorter and with more awake eyes, and Wormtail, well, he appeared as ugly as Ron expected.

Unruffled by Harry's godfather's words, Ron grinned at the man who gave him the best pet he could ask for. "Hi! I'm Rah, no, Robert Weasley. Nice to meet you too. Ack, forget the whole Slytheirn thing. I'm actually a Gryffindor. See…"

Sirius grinned back. "Oh, Nosey, shut you're trap. You're nothing going to trick us with your fake decency and all that rubbish."

"Macdonald," Harry's father called, looking at the blond girl next to Ron. "Could you give us a minute to deal with our little interloper?"

"No…Er…All fight… Fine." The girl moved further down the table, a sad expression never leaving her face.

"So, you thought you could sit at the wrong table, eh?" Harry's father slid into space beside Ron. Ron could almost imagine he was sitting next to Harry again, if it wasn't for the boy's cheeky grin. Merlin, this was the best. Meeting the Marauders. If Harry was here…

And then Ron's excitement died when he realized the truth. Harry's father and Sirius were like him. They would never go up to a Slytherin and be eager to be one's friend. _They won't hurt him. They won't prank him. They're good, mischievous, 1970's versions of Fred and George. They just want to talk._ Ron struggled to calm his thoughts as Sirius settled down on his other side and failed miserably.

 _Why did he think them acting like Fred and George be a good thing? Fred and George loved to hear him squealing. So what's to say the Marauders won't start turning his food into spiders?_

At that point, Ron noticed something tickling up his back. He jumped up and looked back beneath his robes to see cockroaches falling from his arse. More were likely climbing up his back. Ron's face burned red as the small number of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws laughed nearby.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Nosey!" Harry's father smirked. "Now, scatter off. We don't want to see you ever again at this table. This is a evil bigot free zone, you see."

Sirius added. "If you do decide to come again. We won't be as nice."

The cockroaches continued to climb on Ron's back as he scampered away from the table. Everyone was looking at him. He just knew. They thought he was a fool. An idiot. Worse of all, they saw him as a raving mad Slytherin. And one of the people who played him looked just like Harry. It was like the day his teddy bear turned into a spider, but ten times worse.

"Robert Weasley." Ron turned to see Warrington headed towards him and the Marauders, not caring that her large hips knocked some Gryffindors on their bums. "I don't even now what to say. Just, bloody Merlin and Margona's lovechild, never, ever sit at the Gryffindor table. Especially this side. They have a strange fettish of hexing any Slytherin who walks their way."

"Oh Warrington," Harry's father hollered. "Are you here for some cockroaches? I'm sure they would love to suck you cock, man-girl."

It felt disgusting to hear something so vulgar from a voice similar to Harry.

Noticing Ron's wacky movements, Warrington flicked her wand in random directions and soon all signs of itchiness from the creepy-crawlies disappeared. The girl shouted back at Sirius, "Please, you filthy blood traitor. Grow up and stop being such a munted dunce." She grabbed twirled her wand and pointed it forward. "Follow me Weasley."

RWMMRWMM

Oh, why couldn't the hat have bloody put him in the right house?

It would have been so bloody simple for the hat to do. All the hat had to do was think, "Oh, look. He was in Gryffindor in his time, so, of course, he's a Gryffindor."

But no, everything was going out of control and there was nothing he could do about it. The Marauders hated him. The Gryffindors in all his classes so far either glared at him or ignored him. He was forced to eat at the Slytherin table with Warrington hovering over him both breakfast and lunch. No one cared at all about his need to switch back to his rightful house. The bloody Head of Slytherin told him straight that their was no way in hell he could hope to leave the house the Sorting Hat chose and to just be happy. Like that did anything for him.

Was this how Harry felt when everyone was calling him the Heir of Slytherin during their second year? Like the whole world was out to ruin him, just waiting for the right moment to throttle him into a never-ending maze of one catastrophe after another. Was this how Harry felt when Ron ditched him the past few weeks? Like he was lost the best thing in the world and there was nothing he could do to bring it back.

Bloody hell, if he could go home right now, Ron would bloody beg the bloke for forgiveness. Here he was in the exact same situation as Harry. For Harry, no one, including him, believed he didn't put his name in the Goblet. But, now, looking at his own horrible circumstances, where Ron just knew no one would listen to him, no one allow him to be in Gryffindor, Ron couldn't help but realize Harry was being bloody honest.

It seemed so obvious now, looking back, all the anger he felt, was because Ron was reminded again that he was just a random, poor, unimportant Weasley and his best friend was the significant, wealthy, remarkable Potter.

Was being sorted in the worst house imaginable his punishment?

Probably.

As Ron walked into the Charm's classroom, the only thing that made him happy was the fact that it would be the last class of his day. The Slytherins, who he had followed, all grouped together in the groupings they did in the previous classes that day. (Crabbe with Goyle, pug-faced boy with snooty girl, snorting girl with another snooty girl and Sirius look-a-like with grumpy boy.) Ron was all ready to sit alone, like he did earlier for History of Magic, Transfiguration and Divination, when he noticed someone waving at him.

It was the Gryffindor girl from breakfast. Her hair was now strangely knotted and he noticed smudges of dirt under her chin. Ron gladly took the seat next to her. While a bit angry with her for abandoning him he was relieved to find a Gryffindor who wanted him around.

"Sorry about this morning," the girl told him quietly.

"It was a shitty thing to do," Ron grumbled.

The girl lowered her head, causing her long hair to spray over the table. "Its just… Those boys are really intimidating. They're fifth years and are like the top students in the school while I'm a lowly Fourth Year."

"Say it like is, don't you," Ron grumbled.

"Look." The girl sighed softly. "There's nothing I can do now." Suddenly, her eyes rose high as if she just realized the answer for some boorish Charm's theory. "You know what, let me fix your nose. I'm not the best, but I got enough…I fixed my own nose often enough."

"Fine." Ron shrugged, still a bit pissed, but ready to move on. "Try your best."

Her brown eyes closed in concentration as she whispered some spell and twirled around her wand. After a few seconds of that, a sharp pain throbbed in between Ron's nostrils as they moved closer to his face. At long last the pain stopped and Ron moved to touch his nose. The flakiness was off-putting, but at least he could tell it no longer far too long and pointier than a sharp knife.

Extremely pleased, Ron said to the girl, "Thanks. You know, it was dumb of me to even sit there in the first place. I just lost it for a bit with nothing going my way and all."

The girl smiled, obviously relieved if her louder voice was any indication. "Yeah. It must be hard. I can't imagine… Right. I'm Mary, by the way."

"Rob." Ron smiled at the word. It was nice to realize he could shorten his new name to be almost exactly his real one.

"So who are you, Rob? What are you all about?" Mary grinned at him, pressing her hands on her chin.

"Well, like I said this morning, I'm a Gryffindor…"

"Yeah. I already heard." She rolled her eyes. "You're that Slytherin that should be in Gryffindor but isn't because the Sorting Hat thought you needed to grow up. But who are you really?"

Wow, that sounded ridiculous when she said it.

Ron snapped, "None of your business."

He was just a lousy best friend who needed to escape the 1970s.

What was the point of pretending otherwise?

 **AN- Thanks for reviewing again JeanAndBilius.**

 **I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far.**

 **Happy Holidays!**

 **HappyTerrier**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does.**

Chapter 6:

Everyday seemed to blend into the next as Ron settled into his life in the past. The green glow from his window and the sliver lights above him kept him awake most nights. Warrington or another prefect would knock on his door at dawn to drag him to breakfast. Halfheartedly, he followed the eight fourth year Slytherins to each class. During each class, he wrote even less notes than usual because his head burned from the lack of sleep. He spent his breaks wandering around the grounds wishing more than anything he could be joking around with Harry or listening to Hermione remind both of them to do homework.

Since the eight forth year Slytherins had ignored him the past three weeks or so, Ron was surprised when Crabbe and Goyle came to sit near him during dinner. The two obese boys were grumbling together about some blond tosser as they each grabbed some beef wellington. Feeling bored enough, Ron decided to listen in. Anything was better than thinking again about his lonely and friendless state.

"Beat him up, we should," Crabbe muttered as he chewed on a long piece of crusted beef.

"Rile him up." Goyle nodded in agreement. "Sick of him ordering us around like we some savages."

"Avery know what should do." Crabbe nodded. "Always does."

The two ate in silence for a few moments. Maybe Ron should go back to his room. The two idiots obviously could not start talking about something substantial. Of course, they would leave the planning to some other bloke.

"Oi. Oi!" Goyle yelled suddenly, bits of golden bread flying from his mouth. "Speak of Avery. Ain't he mean boy who ignore him."

His thumb pointed left. Ron looked to his left and only saw two giggling girls from his classes and the pretty, but nasty Irish girl from his first night.

The room started to heat up so hot that Ron felt like he was near the Gryffindor Fireplace. He turned back to see Goyle lumbering over him. His round face pulsating near his mouth and cheeks. His finger was now pointed directly at Ron.

"Oi! He is!" Crabbe grinned, still chewing on a piece of beef.

What the blasted Skrewt were they talking about? Avery ignored him like all Slytherins should since the first night.

"Come on, just punch him already." Several Slytherin girls yelled.

Ron groaned. Just what he needed; a throw down with two greasy, Slytherin thugs. Well, he was never one who backed from a fight. "Do you want to fight or what? Or are you too chicken?"

Goyle grinned and rolled his shoulders back. "Never call me chicken, mean boy."

While Crabbe stepped over the table, kicking plates away with his feet, Goyle swung his fist towards Ron's nose. Grinning from the fact that something was finally happening, Ron dogged his fist easily and elbowed Goyle in the chest. His elbow grew sore after it touched Goyle's hard body.

"Eck!" Ron screeched as Goyle now pushed him on the floor, fist hitting his nose. Ron, feeling it break, could only watch as Goyle steadied himself to slam Ron's head against the floor.

If only Harry and Hermione were here. The two of them could distract Goyle, giving Ron a chance to throttle the rabid Slytherin and curse his bones loose.

 _Don't go hoping for them, you lousy, traitor of a best friend._

 _You lost them. All you rage and for what? Some silly game._

Silly game. What a silly game that Twiwizard Tournament was; four people fighting to entertain a crowd and to gain some galleons. What a silly fight this is; him fighting some idiot and losing for no reason other than boredom. At least this idiot wanted to fight for his friend. All Ron wanted was to fight for Harry or Hermione or some other friend. But all he had was no one. Sure, his grandmother and Uncle Bilius knew him, but besides some letters he could never count on them.

"What is going on here?" Someone was yelling. It was a high voice, bossy like Hermione's. Someone pale, with long brown hair gazed down at him. If he was only closer, he could tell if the hair was bushy or straight. Could it be...

Hermione. Her wise eyes looking at him, like some fairy from that bedtime story his mum used to tell him and Ginny.

Ron blinked and Hermione's face morphed into a different face. Ron faintly recognized the face as Professor McGonagall's.

"Well?" Professor McGonagall's face became stern, glaring at him.

Ron just groaned and strained to sit up. He looked away from Professor McGonagall's glaring face to see that Goyle was now away from him. Ron nervously whipped his nose and realized some blood was spilling on his hand.

"Mr. Weasley. Mr. Goyle. Will either of you tell me what your fight was all about?"

"He mean boy." Goyle pointed at Ron. "He wanted to fight."

Professor McGonagall waited a moment before saying, "And you, Mr. Weasley. Why did you start this fight?"

"I didn't start it!" Ron shouted. He could not believe this. How could Professor McGonagall believe he wanted to start a stupid fight? Oh right, she never was the one to side with him or Harry. The last four years proved that time and again. "He started muttering something crazy about me ignoring Avery when I never did."

Professor McGonagall nodded, her eyes trained at Ron. "I see. I think two weeks of detention should do it."

"Yes!" Goyle shouted, his rumpled cheeks shinning red.

"That's for you too, Mr. Goyle."

Goyle's smile flipped downwards. His eyes promising Ron a tortuous evening.

RWMMRWMM

For how annoyingly cheerful Professor Slughorn was, Ron still appreciated how helpful the Head of Slytherin House was to him after the fight. After Professor McGonagall led him and Goyle to the rowdy man, Professor Slughorn instructed Goyle to meet him in office to talk and Ron to head to the hospital wing to fix his nose. Ron could almost forgive him for being Slytherin.

The Hospital Wing was pretty crowded when Ron entered. Several groups of friends surrounded each hospital bed. Yelling across the room, the young matron told him to wait on the left side near an auburn-haired girl and a pale-faced boy sporting a pig nose and elephant ears.

Ron could not help but laugh at the unfortunate boy. He looked bonkers with the clashing animal parts.

The girl snapped, "Don't you laugh at my friend. Especially not when you look far worst."

"What did you do? Smash your face into the Whomping Willow?" The boy's snappy, low growl of a voice sound deadly familiar.

"Got in a bit of a fight." Ron shrugged. "Better than getting pranked like you have."

The girl sniffed. "I don't see how you can be so happy with losing a fight."

Her friend laughed. "He's pretty much a loser in everything he does."

Ron clenched his hands and whipped his hand against face. Red blood dotted his fingers some more. He raised his fist. "Say that again."

"Don't be stupid." The girl said. "There's no reason to fight over some words."

The girl disappeared, replaced by Hermione. He could hear her snapping at him, _'Don't be stupid, Ron. This will just get you expelled or worse'_

Ron started to chuckle. Here, he was at it again, twice in one hour, ready to fight and seeing Hermione.

"Hello." Some hand was waving in front of his face. "Are you okay?" The voice sound worried. Dark red hair rustled in his view. Right, he was in the Hospital Wing, talking to some auburn-haired girl.

"Hermione would say that too," his voice spoke before he could think.

"Oh really? Some friend of yours?"

"Yeah," Ron said sadly.

The girl smiled in sympathy. "She's gone, isn't she."

"Huh?" How could she guess? "How? What? How do you know that?"

"My sister talks like that when she mentions our mother. She died a few years back."

"Lily," her friend muttered. "Don't go telling people like him that. He might go spreading it around."

The girl shook her head. "He won't and anyways I don't mind if people know. It's not like it's a secret."

A shadow came over him and the girl straightened into a defensive stance. "Sev, Ron!" The booming voice of Avery graced them with its resonance. "I'm so glad to see you both."

"Avery." The girl said, her voice cool. "Doing well?" Her hatred of Avery was obvious. The way her lips curled, reminded Ron of Harry's whenever his friend noticed Malfoy.

"Not really, muddy-blood." Avery sniffed. "I just heard that two of my friends got into a fight over me. Not a satisfying start to this great week."

"Don't call her that," Ron snapped. That was even worse than saying Mudblood. It added a joking inflection into the foul word.

"What muddy-blood?" Avery laughed. "It's just a word to put her in place. Remember, she's the she-devil I told you about on Halloween."

"Avery. Go away. You are not wanted here." The girl strutted over to Avery, glaring wildly.

"No, dear, muddy-blood, you're not wanted here. Right, Sev?"

The girl's friend paled, opening and closing his mouth rapidly.

The girl frown, gazing at her friend sadly. "I see."

Avery laughed cheerfully. "Good to know you're on the right side, Sev."

The girl tensed and Ron noticed her hands ball up into fists. Her lousy friend clasped her hands quickly and whispered in her ear. She pushed him away and Ron heard her snap a frigid, "Good for you."

She turned to Avery and told him frostily, "Some day you will get the nasty end you deserve."

Avery grinned goofily, unfettered by her words. Grabbing her bag from a window ledge, she gazed at Ron for a moment, smiling slightly. Ron was confused by her gesture of goodwill. Didn't she see his Slytherin badge?

She then walked out of the room, her head raised proudly.

Immediately after she left, the girl's dimwitted friend spitted on Avery. Undeterred, Avery spit back, with a larger round of slobber.

"I know where I stand." The boy told Avery, brushing Avery's saliva from one of his obtuse elephant ears. "But please don't be mean to Lily in front of me."

"I wish you would finally act smart and dump the mudblood." Avery sighed. "But that's not going to happen. I have to settle and watch you ruin our reputation until you finally realize the scum she is."

The pale boy twitched and breathed heavily for a few moments.

Avery smiled at the boys discomforted, obviously pleased. This action reminded Ron that no matter how nice Avery tried to appear, he was still a slim-infested snake who aimed to harm everyone not fitting his terms of 'pure' in his path.

"Now for Robert Weasley," Avery grinned towards Ron. "Why have you been ignoring me the past three weeks?"

"I haven't," Ron said. "I'm just not interested in talking to any of you Slytherins who harm muggle-borns for sport."

"Ah, I see you haven't learned anything since we last talked." Avery lounged onto an unfortunate patron on a nearby hospital bed. The tiny boy on that bed scorched over to give Avery more room. "Muggle-borns, are nasty creatures who threaten us as much as we talk back to them. Simple as that. And you're a Slytherin and us Slytherins don't openly defy one another for some mudblood priss you like to fuck." He glanced at the pale boy during his last words.

"You're just wrong." Ron glared at Avery. "You can use whatever words you like, but you'll never convince me that muggle-borns are not worthy of respect. My mother taught me better than that."

Avery's eyes widened. "I thought you were at an orphanage until your father found you?"

Crap. A pile of giant shite. "I, er," _Think, Ron, think._ "The Matron at the orphanage was basically my mother."

"Miss mummy Matron." Avery howled. "That's the cutest shite I heard so far. I can just read the tale. The lovable Matron at the orphanage treated all thirty of her orphans as hers, making her the most bountiful mother of all time."

"How charming." The pale boy spoke sarcastically. "I'm bursting with jealously."

Ron felt his face burn bright red. He doubted either of them believed his story.

"Anyhow," Avery slapped a hand on Ron's shoulder. "As much as I like to argue about who's right all day, I really wanted to ask you to please refrain from looking at Goyle the next few weeks. He's really angry at you right now and I fear for your safety."

"I was planning too." Ron guessed Avery was trying to act all friendly again. He still could not think of the reason why Avery cared so much about whether Ron talked to him or not.

"Good. Good." Avery looked over his shoulder. "All Madam Jennings is ready for you."

Ron followed Avery's gaze to see the young matron waving him forward. Finally, he could get his nose fixed.


End file.
